Wind and Shadow
(The Talbot Trilogy 1)
Author: Tori L. Ridgewood
Publication: Melange Books, June 20 2013
Genre: Paranormal
Buy: Paperback ♥ Kindle
After a series of misadventures including being accused of attempted murder in high school, Rayvin Woods, a photographer and natural witch, left her hometown of Talbot in Northeastern Ontario, hoping to start her life over and never return. Ten years later, circumstances force her back to face her past and her former crush Grant Michaels.
Malcolm de Sade, a cunning vampire, escapes from an underground prison looking for vengeance. His accidental release unleashes his hunger and ambition on a small, sleepy town. Rayvin’s power is all that stands between de Sade and his domination of Talbot, and beyond.
Grant Michaels, a police officer, thought Rayvin was a murderer. He will do whatever it takes to protect the community he loves from danger... but will he learn to trust his heart, and the word of a witch, before it's too late?
Rayvin didn't count on rekindling a lost love or battling a malevolent vampire and his coven for her life when she came home to Talbot. Facing the past can be a nightmare… It’s worse when a vampire is stalking you.
Excerpt
Rayvin’s teeth were grinding
together. The pretty little waitress, her head cocked while she smacked her gum
and smiled saucily, didn’t know with whom she was dealing. Rayvin’s hand itched
to wipe those too-red lips off her freckly face; her magick boiled inside her,
making the room spin slightly with its intensity. Maybe the little bitch wanted
those braces to be permanently glued to her teeth? Or every freckle to spontaneously
morph into ugly, enormous, oozing pimples?
Rayvin had had enough of being nice.
She had held her tongue while Asshole Wilson had made his insinuations, in
front of everyone. She had been good, waiting with utmost patience while Grant
Michaels, of all people, had risen somewhat to her defense. He had impressed
her, just when she didn’t want to feel or be impressed, which put her in even
more of a bad mood. Everyone kept assuming they knew everything, just like this
dumb bitch behind the counter, who had smiled blandly when Rayvin had tried
explaining her relationship to Andrea.
“Sorry, I don’t know you, I wasn’t on
shift last night.” She snapped her gum. That particular habit had always driven
Rayvin crazy. “I could lose my job if I let you have the necklace.”
“Is the assistant manager here?”
Snap. Chew. “Nope. Sorry. She’s
busy.”
“Look, maybe I haven’t made myself
clear—” Rayvin checked her name tag. “Susan.”
“Suzie.” She smiled brightly,
flipping a long brown pigtail over her shoulder and thrusting her shirt
forward.
“Whatever. You don’t seem to
understand—”
“Hey, there, Suzie-Q!” Michaels eased
his way between Rayvin and the counter. Inwardly, she seethed at his
interference and at herself for feeling relieved. She had already fought this
battle with herself; she did not need his help. So why was her breast still
tingling where his chest had brushed against it while moving her aside?
As he smoothly explained the
situation, again, Rayvin crossed her arms and scowled at the patrons watching
with interest. Once more, she was getting attention that she neither needed nor
wanted. Tapping her foot to focus some of her negativity, she looked away as
Michaels continued to flirt with the girl behind the counter.
Susie was now leaning against her
arms to reveal her assets at their best angle, beaming up at the tall dark
off-duty cop who had to be twice her age. Her giggles clawed up Rayvin’s back.
She saw a dimple flicker within the light dusting of bristle on Michaels’ face
as he grinned down on the little girl.
She couldn’t look away. She’d seen
him grin like that before, for his friends, but not for her. Her heart ached,
remembering a flash of a grin she’d thought was directed toward her in high
school. And the crushing embarrassment when she’d realized he was looking at
someone behind her. It was ridiculous, really, that the man had this ability to
affect her in this way, after ten years. Stupid.
Impatiently pacing to the door and
back, she couldn’t decide what irritated her more; the entirely
age-inappropriate crushing going on, or her reaction to it. Her hackles had
gone up in a decidedly defensive manner. It shouldn’t matter that he wasn’t
interested. He’d made the boundaries in their relationship painfully clear. She
shouldn’t even use the word, ‘relationship.’ She was essentially a subject in
an investigation, and the enemy of his best friend. And yet she needed him to
get what Andrea needed. Michaels could talk to people in a way that she could
not, and it was clearly working. She grudgingly appreciated the effort, on
Andrea’s behalf, but still . . . did he have to be so obvious?
As long as he was able to get the
necklace, then they could go their separate ways, and she wouldn’t have to
watch him smiling at a pretty girl. She wouldn’t have to pretend that he might,
in some small way, want to move forward. His offer of coffee had felt like a
truce of sorts, and for a moment she had nearly believed that they were just
two ordinary individuals, catching up after years of separation. But as much as
she wanted to believe in the possibility and enjoy something of a reunion, or
something more, because she had to admit that the man made her weak in the
knees and always had, she knew it could never happen. There was too much
history between them. Now, there was too much at stake. Whatever heartache and
loneliness she might feel, she would have to bury it, for Andrea’s sake.
Rayvin swallowed her feelings, and
resumed her post behind Grant, glowering at her former high school crush and
the flirtatious waitress.
The door opened again, this time
admitting an icy wind as well as an individual in dirty jeans and a torn and
grimy black jacket. He pulled the door shut firmly against the breeze. Rayvin
couldn’t see his face for the curtain of greasy black hair under his dismal
grey trucker’s cap.
The patrons closest to the entrance
reacted to the unexpected gust of cold air, grabbing for their coats and
scarves. The newcomer stood by the door, rubbing his grubby hands vigorously.
It was a hint of the winter to come, Rayvin reflected, shivering through her
own thick woollen sweater. If it was as cold as that wind suggested, she was
going to have an uncomfortable journey home, whether it was walking or riding
with Officer Michaels. Constable Michaels. Whatever he was called now. She rubbed
her arms, waiting for the brief burst of chill to dissipate with the warmth of
the restaurant.
It didn’t.
In fact, as waitress Suzie twirled
her hair around her finger and dipped below the counter to retrieve the
necklace for Michaels, Rayvin noticed a distinct odour pervading the room. A
couple behind her left off eating their soup, noses wrinkled wrinkling in
distaste.
“Does it seem darker in here to you?”
Michaels asked.
Before Rayvin could respond, Suzie
called out, “Do you have a penlight or something? I can’t see down here.”
Obligingly, Michaels removed the tool
from an inner coat pocket, and turned around.
Rayvin had noticed that the lights
seemed dim, and the small votive candles on each table were giving off faint
blue hues. Not that any of the diners picked up on their supernatural glow;
they were putting on coats or sweaters against the chill that continued to
spread, or using menus and napkins to try wafting away the stink that ruined
their appetites.
She stepped toward the stranger who
had walked in, sensing the source of the problem. For a brief instant, as he
lifted his chin, her eyes met his in the shadow under the brim of his filthy
hat.
Suddenly, it felt like the walls were
closing in; the world tilted around her, her head pounded, and her vision
exploded. Sickening lights and horrifying, demonic faces leered at her as the
floor slanted under her feet. The breath left her lungs in a whoosh, as though
she’d been punched in the stomach. Rayvin reached out, blindly, hands grasping
for something solid, and found Michaels’ arm.
“We have to get out of here, now,”
she whispered, clutching his wrist.
She turned her head away from the
shadows and that elongated and loomed over her to gesture at the door, where
the decorative lights shimmered and stretched into a matrix of fantastic
threads snaking through the air to bind and trap her. They blinded her against
the dark figure, but she could hear his malevolent laughter. It echoed all
around her, drowning out the words she knew Grant was speaking; she could feel
his chest against her back, an island of stability in the chaos, rumbling
gently as he spoke. Her knees trembled, nearly giving way under the onslaught.
The arm encircling her waist took her off-guard, and she fought against it at
first, until touch revealed it to be Michaels’ muscle, sinew, and bone holding
her steady.
As one, they moved toward the
entrance. His grip tightened as Rayvin staggered under the weight of the
malevolence bearing down on her. Black, dark, evil energy sank down along her
shoulders and spine, cloaking her with icy tendrils and muffling her senses
even as her feet shuffled toward the threshold, until she felt the contours of
the door under her palms. The vile blanket lifted from her with the first
brushes of crisp, fresh air against her face; she tilted her chin up, letting
the calming breeze wash over her eyelids, her nose, and her lips. Exhaling, she
let him steer her down the sidewalk a few paces. She felt like a swimmer who’d
barely escaped drowning. Stopping at a low stone wall, Rayvin leaned her elbows
against its frosty, pitted rough surface, and immediately missed the warmth of
Michaels’ touch when his hand let go of her body.
“What the hell happened in there?”
Michaels was standing a step away, his hands fisted on his hips.
She looked up, rubbing the back of
her hand against her forehead. The pain banding her skull from temple to temple
was starting to ease, but when she opened her eyes, halos of energy stood in
bright relief around the living entities and made her head ache anew. Michaels
moved into her field of vision. She flinched, but instead of the burst of agony
she was expecting, his aura flooded her with calm. He stepped closer, and with
relief, she felt herself opening to his vibration, warm and healing. She felt
his concern, his confusion and frustration, and more.
“I . . .” Rayvin hesitated, unable to
hold his gaze. She looked back the way they had come, down the sidewalk at the
seemingly ordinary restaurant. Another couple was just coming through the
doors, holding hands and laughing, oblivious to whatever had attacked her.
“It’s hard to explain. I felt
something . . . wrong, really wrong. Something powerful, that came at me, like
it was attacking me, or about to. It wasn’t safe to stay. I couldn’t see, couldn’t
breathe . . .” She shuddered, bowing her head, and felt him move a step closer.
“Well, I thought you were going to
faint,” Michaels noted. “And you’re still pale. Are you on anything? Any
medications, herbs, or . . .” He cut off when she glared at him blearily. “What
you experienced could logically be the result of a hallucinogen of some kind.”
Cradling her chin, he pulled out the
penlight again to check her pupils. She jerked her head, trying to get away,
but he refused to let go. The touch of his hand made her breath come more
quickly. The sensation of his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin, just
below her jawline, weakened her defences. Or was it his nearness, the way his
eyes met hers, his lips so close to her own that hers trembled in response?
Rayvin’s stomach was still clenching in reaction to fear, and her fingers were
numb with shock; her instinct was tearing her in three directions. She wanted
to run back in and fight the creature. She wanted to run for her own life. And
she wanted to stay right here in the safety of this man’s arms.
She would never know who moved first.
Her eyes closed as his mouth covered
hers, yielding to the hand that cupped her face and tilted it back. Her fingers
touched his chest, exploring the contours of the warm muscle hidden under the
soft flannel work shirt. Heat blossomed between her thighs as she felt his
heartbeat quicken. He moved closer, settling into the space between her legs as
their kiss deepened.
After her first heartbreak, Tori found solace in two things: reading romance novels and listening to an after-dark radio program called Lovers and Other Strangers. Throughout the summer and fall of 1990, the new kid in town found reading fiction and writing her own short stories gave her a much needed creative outlet. Determined to become a published author, Tori amassed stacks of notebooks and boxes of filed-away stories, most only half-finished before another idea would overtake her and demand to be written down. Then, while on parental leave with her second baby, one story formed and refused to be packed away. Between teaching full-time, parenting, and life in general, it would take almost seven years before the first novel in her first trilogy would be completed. In the process, Tori finally found her stride as a writer.
At present, on her off-time, Tori not only enjoys reading, but also listening to an eclectic mix of music as she walks the family dog (Skittles), attempts to turn her thumb green, or makes needlework gifts for her friends and family members. She loves to travel, collect and make miniature furniture, and a good cup of tea during a thunderstorm or a blizzard. Under it all, she is always intrigued by history, the supernatural, vampire and shapeshifter mythology, romance, and other dangers.
Author Links:
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